Out of the Ashes
by Nightwitch87
Summary: "Happiness would come." Will it? How do we go on? One consequence of the war was another orphan. He was made an orphan so a better world could be created. 2-parter. Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter and don't profit from this. Reviews appreciated.
1. Debris

It was a bleak day for early summer. Neither cold nor warm, neither rainy nor sunny, neither windy nor still. It just was what is was, white and grey and entirely insignificant. The small party standing in the middle of what was ordinarily a deserted meadow could not have been in a more average place. There was no grandeur about it, no excitement, not even the depressing, wild beauty of the hills around Hogwarts. This piece of land was flat except for the small elevation they were standing on. Their view extended across more long grass, some bushes and trees, a yellow rapeseed field in the distance.

Mrs Weasley hadn't been up to it, her husband explained in a hushed voice. "Not right after-" he broke off. They nodded, expressionless. Harry couldn't bear to think of Molly Weasley, because he couldn't recall anything about her other than the hug she had given him at Fred's funeral, sobbing into his robes. He hadn't been able to get a word out, not even condolences. Arthur Weasley, however, had shown up today. He looked weary, balding, damaged. Perhaps he, too, felt simply numb and exhausted now. He was fading.

And Harry's mind wandered once again. And he thought suddenly of the Weasleys' garden, and of how they had played two-a-side Quidditch there. You needed equally strong teams for it, otherwise it just wasn't fun. He wanted, childishly, to go back to that garden now. It was so easy to fade and go there, to pretend. Just being in that garden forever, playing Quidditch, would have been enough. Maybe if they had stayed there, no harm would have come to the Weasleys, or to any of them. It was very clear to him, suddenly, that they all should have stayed in that garden. Then there would still be a Mrs Weasley who baked cakes in the shape of snitches, who made them peel carrots or who made the twins' fake wands whack them around the head. George wouldn't be half of a whole then, with half his ears, half sentences, half himself. It all seemed like a marcabre joke, some kind of cruel trick of Fred's that George had been standing beside his grave, stone-faced, while Ginny grasped her brother's hand, tears streaming down her face for once. April Fool's!

"Harry!" Ginny approached them, wearing simple black dress robes – different ones, he noticed, from the ones she had been wearing two days ago. Another set she might not keep. "Thought you might be over here with the others."

"Hi."

They stood for a moment, looking at each other, until Hermione said "Oh, there's Kingsley. Let's go say hello, Ron." She grabbed his hand and pulled him away, his dad following.

Harry wondered whether Ginny expected him to take her hand, too. No one would care here, but he didn't feel like flaunting their relationship…or whatever this was. It didn't seem right, here and now, and it was all too much to figure out at this moment. They hadn't even talked properly yet. He had hardly spoken to her at Fred's funeral, not wanting to disturb the mourning family, who had asked him to sit with them to his great embarrassment. He hadn't wanted to intrude upon their grief, to sit there as a constant reminder of and reason for Fred's death. But he couldn't think about that now, about why Fred, Lupin, Tonks and so many others had died, or whether they might not have if things had gone a little differently. There was no such option. But Ginny was here, and alive, and looking at him with an unreadable expression. Her eyes were dry and although she was rather pale with shadows under her eyes, he couldn't help noticing how beautiful she was, in any situation, under any circumstances. It was confusing to stand so close to her now after months of not talking, after months of imagining her face, her voice, her scent. All the things he had wanted to say suddenly escaped him. These past few days had flown by in a haze. It was hard to remember sometimes he wasn't on the run anymore. Ginny was here. He could want her now.

"I didn't think you'd come" he muttered stupidly.

"Oh, didn't you?" she replied in a cutting tone you couldn't miss. "I happened to like them, too."

Like them? What? His confusion lifted quickly. Tonks and Lupin. "That's not what I meant" he replied, having an image of Tonks and Ginny sitting by the fireplace at Grimmauld Place, laughing. One more thing not to think about today. "I just…I mean…it's got to be difficult…" He could feel an uncomfortable heat rising up the back of his neck. His heartbeat seemed to echo the name…_Fred, Fred, Fred_.

"Oh. Right." Her expression softened, her lips quivering slightly.

"How are you?"

"Oh, you know…" she gave a non-committal shrug. "A hell of a week, isn't it? Mum wanted to come, but…" She broke off, averting her eyes.

"Hell of a week" Harry mumbled. He stepped closer to her, lightly brushing the outside of his fingers against hers.

She slipped her hand in his, squeezing it firmly. "Hard for you, too" she whispered. "I mean Lupin was the last…"

"Yeah." The last remaining link. He wished she hadn't said it. Their entire conversation seemed to be composed of half sentences, of thoughts half expressed then restrained because they couldn't be completed. It made him want to run off again.

"There are quite a few people here." It was a matter-of-fact statement, although her voice still sounded oddly thick to him.

"Yes." Harry looked around the open field. He wasn't sure why it surprised him. With Fred, it had been almost self-evident that half of Hogwarts would be there, loads of people around their age who had wanted to say goodbye to one of the most popular students in recent years, the extended Weasley family and so forth. Yet here, it was strange to remember that people outside the Order had known Lupin and Tonks. He remembered something Lupin had said to him about not really being a part of wizarding society, unacceptable to most, an outcast. Not even a wizard with full human rights under the most recent laws, which had been reversed immediately. But as he looked around, he couldn't help thinking that some of these people might have come for him, too.

The partly empty rows of white chairs on the grass were filled with the remaining Order members, dressed in dark dress robes, with both people he knew and didn't know. There was a group of witches and wizards in their 20s standing at the back of the rows of chairs, looking slightly uncertain as to where to sit. He imagined they had to be school friends of Tonks'. He had never realized Tonks had had friends her own age, too used to seeing her around the Order. They looked so young in comparison to her. It wasn't their appearance; it was something else. This wasn't a huge assembly, not like Dumbledore's funeral, but not small, either. Nearly all the teachers from Hogwarts were there, including, to his astonishment, Professor Trelawney, dressed in a ridiculous black array of shawls wrapped around her body and sitting with a rather somber expression, staring at her hands. Somehow, it seemed that the battle in all its terror had brought them all closer, forging an invisible bond between those who had fought side by side and lived. But Lupin would never see this new world order, never know that werewolves were not the thing on people's minds today. 'You were wrong'he thought.

"Look at Trelawney" Ginny whispered. He could feel her breath near his ear.

"I know. Nice headscarf." Harry was suddenly close to laughter, and he had no idea where it had come from. Thinking about Lupin one minute, Trelawney the next. It was all so unreal. He held his breath and gulped it back down, contorting his face in a grimace. It made him feel less perverse to see the same, mad glint in Ginny's eyes, the corners of her mouth twitching. What was wrong with them?

"Shall we go find a seat?" she asked after a moment, pulling him in the direction of the others.

"Yeah, okay." They walked over to the rows of delicate chairs, so neatly arranged to face something he did not dare to look at. It was an open congregation, no boundaries, no tent, nothing, just the clouded sky overhead. The grass they were standing on was covered in white sheets of a soft material, smooth and simple. A gust of wind messed up his hair again as they were walking, the sheets fluttering around the edges. It reminded him of Bill and Fleur's wedding. The only exception to the general appearance of simple elegance was the extra sturdy chair Hagrid was sitting in, right at the back, wearing his big ugly suit and desperately trying to look appropriate for the occasion, but already sobbing into a gigantic handkerchief. For a brief moment, Harry considered going over there, trying to say something, but he noticed that Professor McGonagall had already seated herself beside Hagrid, talking to him with one hand on his arm. He would speak to him later.

They walked through the rows of chairs, some filled, some empty. He saw Luna sitting with Neville and his grandmother, and they exchanged a nod and a smile. Luna's big, glassy eyes followed them, while Neville raised his hand in a sort of half-hearted wave. Harry returned it, remembering with a pang the way Lupin had singled Neville out on his first day of teaching, letting him tackle the boggart first. The bizarre image of Snape in a wig, the laughter that had finished him a million years ago.

_A hundred dementors were floating towards him across the lake._ He tried hard to swallow, but the thing that was stuck in his throat wouldn't leave. _Grasping Sirius' arm to make sure they wouldn't take him._ Happiness would come, it would. It was finished, he reminded himself, all over. He couldn't allow the dementor thought to form now, the idea that every_one_ was finished, too. _'Remember King's Cross.'_

"…and the Order." Ginny finished.

"Huh?"

She squeezed his hand. "I was just saying Dad's sitting with Kingsley."

"Yeah." Without further discussion, they approached Ron and Hermione, who were seated one row in front of the now packed row of Order of the Phoenix members, only a short distance away from the thing he didn't like to look at. Hermione's eyes were already sparkling with moisture, and Ron had his arm around her.

"Hey." They sat down next to them, Harry between Ginny and Ron.

"More people than expected, isn't it?" asked Ron quietly. "What are all these guys doing here?" He jerked his head at the young adults at the back.

"I expect they wanted to come pay their respects." Hermione said, looking around. "But I don't really see anyone who belongs with Remus."

"I don't reckon he had too many friends. Not-" Ron broke off with a quick glance at Harry.

'_Not live ones'_ Harry mentally added. "Not anymore."

"Well, that doesn't mean he doesn't deserve a proper...goodbye…" She took a gulp of air, tears streaming down her face now.

"The Order is here" Ginny remarked quietly, still clasping Harry's hand rather tightly.

"Yeah" Ron agreed quickly. "And I mean…us too, right? We're here."

Yes, they were. Harry's mind wandered to the task that lay ahead, the task he had been dreading for the past couple of days. He finally looked to where Lupin and Tonks lay, in clean clothes on plain white sheets. He could see some of the scars on his former teacher's face from where he was sitting, but no new ones had been added by the curse that had killed him. Both he and Tonks lay as he remembered them, fairly unharmed but clearly dead. Not sleeping, too pale to be sleeping – dead. Tonks' hair was a mousey, plain colour in death as if to match the general lack of vivaciousness she had once possessed. He studied their faces since this was, after all, the last time he would ever see them. They would be ingrained in his memory like this, paler than usual and with frighteningly blue fingernails.

He rehearsed the words in his mind, words he had prepared about courage, and what he had been given. How much it had meant. He was glad at this chance to say it out loud in front of all these people, to repay Lupin, in a sense, for what he had said about Harry on the radio. He just wished he could have told him to his face. He also dreaded it, afraid that he would forget, that his voice would fail or that people would start crying too much. He was glad that the things he had to say were very short, a couple of sentences only, and that Kingsley would be doing the main speech, with his soulful voice and calmness. There was something fitting about having the Minister for Magic do it. Harry only had to say a few sentences afterwards, that was all. It wasn't so daunting. _"Expecto patronum, expecto patronum!" _He wished his stag could stand guard.

Ginny nudged him, and he returned to the present to see Andromeda Tonks sitting down in the first row, just feet away from them, escorted by an older friend or family member, a baby's pram rolling of its own accord beside her. "Oh." He could only see her back, very erect in immaculate robes, and a head of thick, dark hair she had pinned back today. Her friend was leaning towards her, whispering something, but she didn't react. Instead, she put one hand on the pram and rocked it gently. Harry could feel his heart leaping up to his throat again. This was his godson. This was Tonks' mother, who had now buried her husband and was about to bury her only daughter, killed by her sister's hand. She had lost everything, but here was Teddy, a baby. Harry was supposed to be responsible for him even though he didn't even know him. He didn't know how to approach her or how to raise the subject, when to do it.

"Harry-" Hermione began gently, but he cut across her.

"I'll be right back." He got to his feet abruptly before he could change his mind, Ginny's hand slipping from his grasp. He walked to the end of the row and around to the front, feeling the eyes of his friends on his back. As he approached, the two women in the first row looked up.

"Harry." Mrs Tonks said it as if it were a statement, not a greeting. He was surprised at her appearance. She wasn't tearful, but her face was more lined than he remembered it, her cheeks sunken, which made her dark eyes stand out more. There was a hardened look in them. It made her look even more like Bellatrix, her sister, her daughter's murderer. It gave him the creeps. Her hair now had small streaks of grey at the front, which were partly falling out of the pins and down to her shoulders.

"Hello, Mrs Tonks" he said. Her friend eyed him critically, immediately gaping at his scar. He ignored her. "I'm very sorry for your loss." The words came out as if someone else were speaking them using his voice, contrived and insufficient. He was never able to say them in a natural way, no matter how many times he had spoken them over the past few days. They just didn't express what he really meant, how much he really meant it. "About your husband, too."

"Thank you." Her face softened a bit, her jaw relaxing. A bit less Bellatrix now.

There was an awkward pause. Harry remembered how worried she had been nearly a year ago when he had come to her house, and how he had been the cause of it. She blamed him for this; he just knew it. He subtly wiped his palms on his robes. The unknown friend gave Andromeda's arm a little squeeze, excusing herself for just a minute. It was only him and her left now, but Andromeda's eyes had drifted from Harry to where her daughter was lying, waxen and rigid. She shook her head. "Nymphadora liked you."

"_Don't call me Nymphadora, Remus!"_ A small rush of relief washed over him. He recognised her statement for what it was – a conciliatory gesture. "She was…great. Really brave. And funny, too." He felt like he should come up with more positive attributes to list, but his brain was as blank as her voice sounded hollow.

"Yes."

"I'm really sorry" he repeated sheepishly.

Her gaze left her daughter's body reluctantly and she nodded. Black pools zoned in on him. He could see traces of Sirius in her if he looked closely enough. A small mewl came from the pram, stopping as quickly as it had started. "Shh, I'm here." Andromeda began to rock it again. It was a gentle movement, but a hint of steel was still present in her way of going through the motions, something of a tigeress ready to pounce if anyone approached her cubs.

Harry took a careful step closer, peeking under the navy fabric bit. Inside lay a baby boy, covered in a blanket, his head only just visible. He seemed to be stirring in a semi-awake state, little legs moving under the blanket, but his eyes were closed.

He could sense Tonks' mother watching him intently as he stood there, uncertain how exactly you introduced yourself to a one-month-old infant. "Harry" Andromeda leaned forward, lowering her voice now and speaking with greater urgency than before. "I know my daughter and Remus named you godfather. They told me so. They said…"

"What did they say?"

She paused, exhaling slowly. "Well, they thought you were suitable."

He had a feeling that this wasn't quite what they had said, and that Andromeda disagreed with them, but didn't want to press the matter. He did not reply.

"I respect that" she continued quietly. "But in all honesty, you're a…well, a teenager. It isn't easy to bring up a child, you know, at any point in life, but-"

"I know" he interjected quickly. "I don't know anything about babies. I don't even know where I'll live yet. I can't…raise him." The word sounded absurd in his ears. It felt cowardly to say it, but it was the truth. The thought of having a baby on his hands full-time was more daunting than the idea of an eighth horcrux would have been.

Andromeda looked visibly relieved. He realised that she had to have been worried that he would try to take her grandson away from her, on top of everything else. Her eyes suddenly shone overly bright, her lips pressed tightly together.

"I want to help though" he added, to clarify that he didn't want to be as absent in Teddy's life as Sirius had been in his life for the first 13 years. He wanted her to hear him, to know that he was taking this seriously. He had been thinking it over, mulling over the situation. They were thoughts of loss and guilt, anger and unfairness, unpleasant memories and determination. And in spite of the uncertainty in his own life at the moment, one thing had been perfectly clear to him: Ted Lupin would not grow up like him, dumped on the doorstep of some so-called relatives who despised him, neglected at the best of times and bullied at the worst. He would be a kid long before Hogwarts. He would be allowed to ask questions. He would have people, a set of people, because if there was one thing Harry had learned it was how quickly people could simply disappear. But standing here, with a baby over in that pram, he didn't quite know how to make that happen.

"Of course" Andromeda replied. "We'll sort something out." He noticed again how tired and drawn she looked. Maybe she needed the help, too.

Teddy was stirring more vigorously inside the pram now, making small noises through his nose. Andromeda got up, bent forward and lifted him out with the faintest of smiles. She was shielding him with her long, billowing robes. "Yeah…you don't want to be here either, do you?" She said it in a quiet, high-pitched voice, and Harry wasn't entirely sure she knew that she had said it out loud at all. He felt a bit uncomfortable, as if he were watching something very intimate. She seemed to be communicating with the little boy without words, gazing down at him intently. He wasn't sure how she did it or what was going on. He couldn't help feeling a bit left out, disappointed in his first, distant encounter with his godson. He wondered if he should leave, as the last of the people who had been standing around had now taken their seats, waiting for the ceremony to start. The crowd was subdued, muttering in low voices if at all, a few people already dabbing at their eyes with handkerchiefs.

"Would you like to hold him, Harry?"

"Uh, sure. Yes." He wasn't so sure about it. Of course he would have to hold him sometime, but he didn't want to…break him or something. He looked so tiny, all head and fragile limbs.

"Make sure you support his head. He can't hold it up himself yet. Here, hold your arms like mine. That's it. Okay…careful there…" She laid him in his arms as if she were giving something extremely valuable away, tucking his blanket around him. "Keep your hand there. That's it. You're doing fine. There."

She pulled away slowly, still remaining close enough to touch. The little bundle in his arms felt heavier than expected, warm and mobile, but entirely quiet now. "Hi" he croaked. He gazed into the small face, the big blue eyes staring up at him expectantly. It was a curious thing. A fluff of blond hair, a snub nose, a mouth, and the smallest round ears. He tried to push the blanket away from Teddy's face a bit, and brushed his cheek with his little finger. As he did so, Teddy's head turned slightly to the side, his mouth opening and closing at the empty space. It was the most amazing thing. He carefully brushed against his other cheek, and the same thing happened again.

Then, something inside Harry happened, too. Somehow, seeing the tiny movement, the reaction to touch, was everything. A cascade of shivers ran down his back while something else rose inside him. It wasn't happiness exactly, but strong and beautiful, yet frightening in its intensity at the same time. And it was a strange thing, because it was as if Harry understood, more completely, what Dumbledore had meant by saying it was more powerful than anything else.

"I'm Harry. I'm your godfather."

Teddy stared up at him, his mouth still slightly open in an "O" shape. An irresistible smile tugged at Harry's lips to his own surprise. Teddy. Little Teddy Lupin, part of Lupin and Tonks. His godson. His parents' son, a part of his parents alive forever.

"He... "Andromeda gasped, and Harry glanced up to see that tears were rolling down her face now, all the way down to her neck. "…he looks like Dora, don't you think?"


	2. Rising

The gnomes were particularly wicked this year, he mused. Not that they were ever pleasant creatures, but this year, they were right little bastards. They had taken to leaping out at him suddenly, sinking their tiny teeth into his ankle and darting off again, occasionally sticking out their bums at him from behind bushes afterwards. They never did it to the kids, just him. Apparently, his swearing and the flailing arms trying to reach for them were the funniest thing in the world. James certainly seemed to think so. It was all Ginny's fault, Ginny with her love for anything that moved. "Oh, but they're just playing, Harry. It's in their nature." Oh, how perfectly _cute_. He wondered how she would like to be made a fool of by ugly, bald men smaller than a children's doll. Naturally, he had taken it upon himself to defeat them, taking perhaps a little more pleasure in the de-gnoming than he should. So far, the score was Harry Potter: 3. Gnomes: 2. The summer heat sent a trickle of sweat running down the back of his neck.

"Got you!" He picked one up by its ankles, having snatched it with the seeker's reflexes. The gnome shook angry fists at him, trying to wriggle out of his grip. He swung it around as Ron had once shown him, gathering momentum.

"Faster, Daddy, faster!"

He let go and the tiny man soared across the garden, landing a good distance away in the adjacent meadow. It was out of sight, but he noticed the high grass rustling with movement. He thrust a fist up in the air. "Ten points to Gryffindor!"

James giggled, leaving his enchanted toy motorcycle behind to run towards his father. "My turn!"

The sun highlighted his son's reddish brown hair and he looked so excited, so perfectly adorable, that Harry caught him halfway, scooping him up and spinning around wildly. "Got you, too!" James shrieked and they were both laughing, messing around.

"Let me down!" James finally exclaimed. "I can do it; I can catch one. Me and Albus did it the other day. Watch me, Daddy."

He watched with a smile as his son tiptoed towards the bushes, moving with unnecessary caution as if the gnomes wouldn't notice him. He peeked around the edges and through the branches, overlooking the gnome peeking out at the other end, sticking out its greenish tongue. He saw it too late and by the time he had rushed towards it, it had disappeared again. "No! Come back!"

"It'll show up again" Harry assured him, aware of his eldest's impatience. "But I think we need a plan-"

"I've got an idea!" James interrupted, his expression turning business-like. He turned to face his father, pointing at a spot on the other side of the bushes. "You go there, Daddy, and I go here, and…" His voice had turned into a conspiring whisper. "…and you scare it, and it runs to me. And I catch it. Watch me. Sh." He put his finger to his lips.

"Okay" Harry whispered, creeping towards the other end of the bushes in the same exaggerated tiptoe as his son. "It needs to be quick. Watch out. Ready?"

But James' gaze had wandered away from the bushes and was fixed on something further away, his face lighting up all of a sudden. "Look!"

Harry nearly startled at the sudden exclamation, spinning around to follow his son's attention outside the garden fence. Two figures were walking towards them, one tall, the other short and running ahead. He beamed at them as he recognized who it was, approaching the garden gate himself. James beat him to it, fumbling impatiently with the lock he had only managed to open by accidental magic so far. You needed something to keep the Rita Skeeters of this world out.  
>"Teddy!"<p>

"Hi, James!" the older boy shouted, reaching the garden out of breath.

Harry pulled out his wand and with a flick, the lock opened. The boys pushed it open and James was immediately by Teddy's side, jabbering away. "We're gnoming! Daddy got some, and I can do it, too! Wanna help?"

But Teddy ignored the younger boy and ran towards Harry, panting. "Harry…Harry, guess what!"

He smirked. "Nice to see you, too." His godson's hair was a flaming orange today, standing up in spikes, while his greyish blue eyes –his natural eye colour, he noticed- were sparkling. It was unusual to see him so animated.

"No, seriously, guess what?"

Harry had a pretty good idea what this was all about, and his stomach gave a jolt. It was the end of July, a few days before his own 29th birthday. That could only mean one thing. "Uh, I don't know, did the Chudley Cannons move up in the league?" The hair colour would have matched.

"I got into Hogwarts!" Teddy blurted out, nearly jumping up and down. "I'm in! I just got my letter, look-"

But Harry ignored the boy's attempts to extract a piece of paper from his trousers and pulled him into a hug. "That's great! Teddy, that's amazing! Knew you'd get in! Congratulations!"

"Hogwarts?" James shouted, trying to hug some part of Teddy as well. "Wow! Can I-"

"I see he's told you the good news." Andromeda entered the garden, approaching the little group. She was wearing bright, salmon-coloured robes and a content smile, walking sprightly.

Harry released his godson and grasped her hand, kissing her on the cheek. "How are you, Andromeda?"

"Wonderful, thanks." She ruffled James' hair with one hand. "The owl only came half an hour ago, but he insisted on going to see you straight away. Couldn't wait. Engorged the cat by accident while I was getting ready. I'd say it's about time he goes off to school." She smiled proudly at her grandson, who was showing James the letter, reading it out loud to him. They both watched the boys for a moment, an unsaid understanding passing between them. Harry knew she felt the same twinge at this moment – perhaps more so than him.

"So" he cleared his throat, "September 1?"

"September 1, as usual. Some things never change." Her smile faltered slightly, but she pressed her lips together, pushing a strand of curls behind her ear.

"Andromeda" he touched her arm lightly, lowering his voice, "you know you're still welcome here, right? Our dinners don't have to stop. I mean you're…sort of family." He averted his gaze, afraid to make her uncomfortable. They were friendly, certainly, but neither of them was the soppy type. He didn't see her face, but she gave his arm a tremulous squeeze, and he knew she had understood.

"James" she called brightly, striding over to where the kids had sat down in the grass. Teddy's hair had changed to lime green curls, and James was laughing as the older boy made his ears waggle. "where's your brother? I hardly see one of you without the other."

"Uncle George's. He got a day at the joke shop for his birthday. But Uncle George says he won't let him do the fireworks so he won't explode" James explained casually. "Mummy says he better not."

"I should hope not. Would you please show me where your mum and Lily are so I can say hello?"

"Lily can't say hello yet. She doesn't say anything, just stupid noises." He said it with the typical annoyance he often reserved for his sister.

"I know, sweetheart. But I'd like to have a word with your mum, and I heard you have a rat now. Maybe you can show me?"

At this, James jumped to his feet. 'Way to go for the rat, Andromeda' Harry thought. The pet tended to produce far more excitement in James than his baby sister could. The little boy took Andromeda's hand and led her into the house, chatting eagerly about the animal. Harry knew she had no desire whatsoever to see the creature Ginny had allowed their son to keep ("it will teach him responsibility").

He walked over to his godson and sat down cross-legged. Teddy was re-reading the letter for the umpteenth time. "Are you looking forward to going?"

"Of course!" He held the piece of paper with an amusing reverence, smoothing it out again with one hand. Harry remembered how he had, many years ago, studied an identical letter for weeks, not quite believing that he was really going to leave the Dursleys. He had taken it out at night, memorising the words by the light of the moon. Only the handwriting was different this time. Well, the handwriting and the circumstances.

"Do you think I'll be in Gryffindor like Dad, or Hufflepuff like Mum?"

"…or Ravenclaw or Slytherin."

Teddy scowled. "Not likely."

"But possible, and it would be okay. All the houses are okay, really. It's all about what you make of it." He still wasn't too fond of Slytherin, but under the circumstances, it was the right thing to say. It was the kind of thing Lupin would have said to his son.

"Hm. That's what Granddad Weasley said, too." Harry smiled at the reference to Granddad Weasley, who was not the boy's grandfather, but somehow everyone's "Granddad Weasley". This was so like Arthur. "But I want to be in Hufflepuff or Gryffindor."

Harry understood. He looked at Teddy, all large pale eyes and shiny black hair now, growing up so rapidly. What traits were hidden inside his head? Eleven, it struck him, was so young. Who would this boy become? Ted Remus Lupin. Who preferred wizard's chess to broomsticks. Who liked to read books. Who had been gentle and patient with the boys when they had been toddlers, but who had recently been withdrawing if they became a bit too much. Who could be funny in his observations, but who grew quiet in large company. Who liked to change his appearance a lot in front of close family, but who wouldn't do it in public. He wondered what the Sorting Hat would make of him. "If that's what you want, I think you should tell the Sorting Hat."

"I hope it listens" he said, a worried look on his face. "What if I'm not brave, loyal, smart or…the other thing?"

"Cunning and ambitious" Harry reminded him. "And of course you are. People are all these things in different ways. Take Neville –or Professor Longbottom for you now- he was scared of half the teachers, scared of loads of things at Hogwarts. Didn't get good marks, either. But he was a real Gryffindor and-"

"-he fought against Voldemort and chopped off the snake's head" Teddy finished for him. He knew the story by heart, although his attention usually focused on the part with his parents fighting against evil. It was a story he had always known, as soon as he had been old enough to ask – although the finer details had only been included gradually. No lies. Harry sometimes wondered, after telling the story so many times to different people, whether he was telling the truth anymore. Maybe his Lupin and Tonks had become idealised, the way he wanted them to be. But then again, people had always spoken that way about his own parents, and he had wanted to see them that way.

"You see my point, right?"

"Yeah, I guess." Teddy was picking at the dry grass, twirling it between his fingers, ripping parts out absent-mindedly.

"Which house would you like to be in?"

"Gryffindor." He looked up with a grin, wiping his hands on his jeans.

Harry smiled back. Big surprise. "Why Gryffindor?" He reminded himself that it wasn't good to strengthen this hope too much, that it was selfish of him to hope deep down that Teddy would be in Gryffindor like himself.

His godson shrugged. "You're in Gryffindor. Everyone's in Gryffindor. I want to be brave." He could only assume that "everyone" meant himself and the Weasleys, his main reference group. "Like Dad" he added quietly.

"Your mother was brave, too."

"I know" Teddy said hastily. "You don't think Mum would be disappointed if I did end up in Gryffindor?"

"No" Harry replied firmly. "I'm sure she wouldn't be. I think your Mum and Dad would want you to be happy, wherever you end up. I'm sure they'd be…very proud of you."

How easily the words slipped from Teddy's lips. "Mum." "Dad." They were normal words to him, Harry thought, words that had been used by the people around him. He recalled their absence in his own childhood, the sweet sadness he had felt in front of the Mirror of Erised around this age. Once again it became clear to him, quite clear why he had been made Teddy's godfather. How much had Lupin foreseen his future? "Mum." "Dad." Watching the boy, seeing him grinning at him excitedly earlier, a similar Mirror of Erised had flooded him. It was bittersweet to see such a child there, overjoyed at the idea of finally going off to Hogwarts, loved by his family, wanting to know more about his parents. How he wished Tonks and Lupin could see their son like this, his eyes sparkling, his hair changing colours every other minute. They should have been here. He could picture it, their pride, their share in his excitement. Teddy would never be able to picture it accurately.

"Harry?" Teddy nudged him, a frown on his face. "What's wrong? I will go, won't I? I mean they can't…chuck me out if it turns out I'm not magical enough or something?"

"No, they can't. You're stuck with magic for life." Harry tried a reassuring smile. "There's not a chance you're not magical enough. Not after the floating dish destruction…" He wanted to say something else, but he didn't quite know what. He didn't want to ruin this moment for Teddy by bringing up the fact of his parents' deaths again. And even if he did, what would he say? Dumbledore had been good at this sort of thing, but Harry wasn't sure if he had the words to explain about veils, about people not really being gone, here and now. About how his parents really were proud of him. There would come a time. He put his arm around Teddy. "What do you say we go into London next weekend and get your school things?"

"Grandma already said she would."

"Maybe we can go together."

Teddy shrugged unenthusiastically. "That's not going to work out."

"Why not?"

He rolled his eyes. "Lily will be crying all the time, Albus will get tired and want to go home, and James could run off again."

Harry smiled sympathetically, remembering their last visit to Diagon Alley when Lily had only been a month old, trying to get more baby things and have an overdue family day. With the chaos it had been with three young kids, he had gained a new admiration for Molly. Teddy had been trailing behind them, trying to watch James and missing out on the shops that interested him because Albus had been sick after his ice cream so they had decided to return home early. He made a decision. "Maybe they don't have to come."

"What?"

"Maybe it can just be you and me" he suggested, hoping Ginny would agree. "We haven't done that in a long time." They had used to have afternoons to themselves sometimes, even after the surprise baby James had been born. Harry had always thought it was important to have that sort of one-on-one time with his godson, but somewhere around Lily's birth, things had just become too busy. Although Teddy continued to be included in the family, it had been more on a "run along" basis.

"Really? You mean without the kids?"

Harry smirked at Teddy's understanding of who "the kids" were, as opposed to him. "I'll have to talk to Ginny first, so I can't promise it. And I'll talk to your grandma, too."

"Cool." He smiled, then returned to plucking the grass. "I found Mum's old _A History of Magic_ at home. But there was so much in there about goblins and giants and stuff. I can't remember all of it."

"Sounds like you've read more of it than me" Harry muttered, reprimanding himself a second after saying it – although it was true. Still, he should be a positive example and all. "Don't worry, you won't be expected to know all that stuff before even getting to Hogwarts. They'll teach you."

"Mum drew on some of the pages."

"Did she?" Teddy had said it casually, still looking down at the grass, but Harry knew that this was more important to him than he was letting on. Lily's letter was still in a drawer upstairs. Any small thing, any detail or sign of life, was something to prove that Mum had really existed. It was something to hold on to, a connection because you were touching the same thing as her, looking into her thoughts. Harry understood, perhaps more than his godson knew.

"Just doodling mostly" Teddy shrugged, his voice distant. "A lot of faces and hippogriffs. Sometimes she wrote things about boys."

Harry could picture him flicking through the pages, not really reading but just looking for more notes, lost words from his mother. "Did it make you miss her?"

"Not really. I mean…" he paused. "I didn't know her, right?" He was half turned away now, wiping his face on the shoulder of his sleeve.

Harry put a hand on his back, just letting it rest there while he gave him a moment. He waited, weighing up how to respond. "She really wanted to be there" he said gently. "I know she did."

"But she's not. She went and died instead." There was an unusual amount of anger in Teddy's slightly contorted face. "She'd rather be with Dad."

"Teddy…" He was forcefully reminded of a young Tom Riddle, being similarly angry with his mother for dying. A creepy thought, one he pushed aside quickly. Tom Riddle wouldn't have let anyone put their arm around him and explain. "Listen, please. This is really important. It's not that your Mum didn't want to be with you. She didn't want to die. She just wanted you to be safe while she helped your Dad so you could all be safe. If we hadn't won this war, no one would have made it. Everyone was fighting so hard. What your parents did made a huge difference. They did it because they wanted you to grow up in a better world. And I think they only risked it because they were sure there would be…other people looking out for you."

"Hm." Teddy didn't sound convinced, but this wasn't the right time to tell him yet about seeing his father's shadow, hearing him say these things. He would, one day. When he was sure his godson wouldn't go into the Forbidden Forest for the resurrection stone. Was it right to keep this information from him? Were omissions kinder, or just easier?

"They loved you. And they'd be so happy today."

Teddy didn't reply, twirling another blade of grass between his fingers. What a quick turn things could take, Harry thought, from being wonderful to being sad at the same time.

"That book" Teddy said suddenly, "it also talked a lot about…werewolves."

"Oh. Yeah." He couldn't remember exactly what _A History of Magic_ had said about werewolves –this particular conversation would have been more in Hermione's arena- but recalled an illustration showing a mob of angry muggles with spears, circling one they were about to kill. It wasn't pretty.

"How they're monsters and they've killed many wizards and witches and muggles. Just like that."

"Humans have killed many werewolves, too. They've been persecuted for centuries."

"But they did it because they were scared. Because the werewolves, they'd…bite them, turn them into werewolves, and they killed little kids."

Harry sighed. Teddy looked so horrified, so utterly troubled and disgusted that there wasn't much to counter that. "Werewolves –unless they've taken a potion, but that's a pretty recent thing- can't control what they do during the full moon. It's not really them that are doing it. You know that. It's the wolf. It's not their fault."

Teddy shook his head. "That's not true. Many do it on purpose. They get close to people to bite, sneak out at night, or they use it to scare people or do things to people they've got a problem with."

"Look, Teddy-"

"I'm not a kid; I know it's not like in that stupid story." He looked at his godfather, his face set in a serious manner. No, he certainly wasn't a small child anymore, to be introduced to the subject through carefully selected tales. Those times had passed sooner than Harry would have liked.

"You're right; it's more complicated. But it's not like _A History of Magic_ just gives you 'the truth', either. It tells it from the wizards' and witches' point of view. And anyway, that book was written years ago, when werewolves weren't even really allowed to live among normal humans, or have jobs…or anything. Not just because people were scared, but because they hated them. People hate others that are different."

"They bite people to turn them into one of them and sometimes kill them!"

"Not all of them do. Some, but not all of them." He was surprised at how harsh his own voice sounded. He still hated it when adults went on about how wrong the new laws were, how evil and heartless werewolves were, how they should be locked away. Hermione frequently vented about it, fed up with it from her work. Ignorant idiots. "Many are just trying really hard to survive without hurting anyone. Many end up hurting themselves a lot when they can't hurt other people."

Teddy's eyes widened. He seemed to ponder the information for a moment, before asking, quietly. "Did my dad ever kill anyone?"

"No, I don't think so. Not outside war. Not while he was at school, and I don't think later, either." He tried to say it with more conviction than he felt. Had Lupin ever killed anyone? Harry had never asked him, but it would have been impossible to do so. He could just imagine the expression it would have brought to his face, the pain. The idea of a killer Remus Lupin was absurd. But the wolf, the wolf that had hurt even Sirius in his dog form, so close to humans? He didn't want to think about it.

"But you don't _know_?" Teddy's blue eyes pierced him.

"I never asked. But to be honest, I don't think he could have lived with it if he had. It would have been the worst thing for him."

Teddy digested this, evidently lost in thought, then flung himself backwards on the grass with a sigh, his arms stretched out to the side as if he were making snow angels. Harry hesitated for a moment, then laid down in the scratchy stubbles himself. They were almost head to head, facing different directions. The sun instantly burned on Harry's skin and he squinted against it, trying to make out the shapes of the white cotton clouds above. But no welcome shade would come. "I promise your dad was anything but a monster" he muttered.

"Yeah, okay."

"Don't be ashamed of him. He was a good man. People are always too quick to judge by appearances."

"Do you think I'm like him?"

Harry smiled to himself, again struck by the bitter sweetness of it all. "Yeah, I reckon you are. Thoughtful." He made a mental note to give his godson more of the pictures he had found scattered in Sirius' room years ago.

They lay in silence for minutes, and Harry relished in the breeze that was caressing him at last like a gentle whisper. It provided a welcome relief from the stuffiness of the day. He was involuntarily reminded of the silky feeling of a veil brushing against his skin.

"Harry?"

"Yeah?"

"What do you think my patronus will be when I can finally make one?"

The stag inside him cantered, and he could picture the first time he had ever cast it at the Quidditch game as if it had been yesterday. It was still here. It was always here. "I…"

"Daddy! Teddy!" They were rapidly interrupted by James' voice, calling across the lawn, impossible to miss. "Mummy says come inside for tea!"

"All right!" He got up slowly, brushing dried grass off his clothes. His godson was still lying motionless, his eyes closed against the sun. He looked at him for a moment. The stag gave him a nudge.

"Coming, Teddy?"


End file.
